


It's Gonna Be Alright

by emeiyonemillion



Series: Scatcember 2020 [5]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Cramps, Diarrhea, Nervousness, Or not, Scat, Stomach Ache, however you want it it is, this could be read as starrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeiyonemillion/pseuds/emeiyonemillion
Summary: Scatcember Day 7: Anxiety ShitsORGeorge gets a bit nervous on their flight to America
Relationships: George Harrison & Ringo Starr
Series: Scatcember 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037007
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	It's Gonna Be Alright

George bounced his leg as the plane rocked, preparing to fly the four Beatles to America. He felt a sharp cramp in his stomach and he placed his hand over it. Ever since he was little he’d always gotten bad stomach cramps when he was anxious, and he just hoped he could wait until they landed for what usually followed. Ringo sat next to the younger man, idly flipping through a book, Paul and John sitting a row or two in front of them talking about something. Eventually the plane took off, thus beginning the nine hour flight. 

The first few hours went by pretty smoothly, George able to take a nap for most of it, until a deep pang within his gut and a sudden pressure in his bowels woke him. An involuntary whimper slipped past his lips, and Ringo turned his attention from his book. 

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” He chuckled, but his eyes turned from amusement to concern once he noticed the fanged grimace on George’s face and how his arms were wrapped around his middle. “You alright? Got a tummy ache?” George flinched with another cramp.

“It happens when I’m nervous sometimes..” 

“Ah, want me to see if we can get you some meds or anything? I bet Brian’ll have something you can take.” Ringo started to get up, but George waved him back down. 

“It’s fine, I can manage. How much longer till we get off?” 

“Er- Probably about 5 or 6 hours. You sure? I’m sure he won’t mind.” 

“I’m alright, probably just gonna try to sleep it off.” Ringo nodded, though his eyes lingered on him, worry prominent in the bright blue. Eventually after a while of shifting around uncomfortably, George fell back asleep, tiny whines morphing into breathy snores. 

More hours passed, Ringo now almost done with his book when he heard George groan. He looked over, seeing the lanky man curled completely over on himself, feet on the chair and hands on his stomach, which made a hissing-like noise. The younger blinked open his deep brown eyes, which Ringo swore were almost shiny with tears. 

“You okay?” Ringo comfortingly rested his hand on the other’s shoulder. George shook his head, groaning again. “You want some meds?” He shook his head again, shutting his eyes tightly against the tears as his stomach roared again. His cheeks turned a bright red as he muttered.

“I need a toilet..” Ringo’s eyes grew wide. 

“O-oh.. Uh- there’s only about two hours left until we get off. You think that you can wait a bit?” George urgently shook his head, hands starting to shake as he pressed them into his stomach, clenching his entire body. 

“I can’t wait, Ritchie…” Tears started to stream down his cheeks, and Ringo started to rub his back, shushing him.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna make it, alright?” 

“I can’t wait two hours Ritch, I don’t even think I can last a few minutes…” George squirmed again, one hand moving from his stomach to down below his ass. 

“Okay uh…” Ringo looked around panickedly. “Do you want me to get you something? Maybe a- uh- bowl or something?”

“I’m not shitting in a bowl, Richard.” Another cramp tore through George’s abdomen and he moaned loudly, grabbing the attention of the two other Beatles sitting nearby as he moved his other hand down to sit on it. 

“Well there’s not much else you can go into, and a bowl is better than your pants.” George moaned again, practically jumping in his seat.

“Get me a bucket or something, not a bowl.” Ringo nodded, slipping out from the small space and looking around for anything he could find. Meanwhile George writhed in his seat, hoping to god Ringo could find something that he could shit into and keep even a shred of his dignity. 

A few minutes closer to George losing himself all over himself and the seat and Ringo came back, wearing an apologetic expression and carrying a small white bowl. George sobbed just seeing it, and his stomach cramped. 

“Ringo, I don’t wanna do this…” he sobbed, still shifting around on the chair. Sweat was gathering across his brow and down his sides, and starting to pool under his thighs. 

“I know, just get it over with, alright? Then we’ll get you to the hotel to stay until you feel better.” George nodded, tears still streaming down his face as he took the bowl from Ringo, looking around. “Go to the back. You’ll have the most privacy.” He nodded again, one hand set firmly between his ass as he stood up and ran quietly to the back of the plane, where he set the bowl down and dropped trough. 

The second he got his pants down shit poured out of him like a waterfall, the loud squirts and sharts drawing attention from everyone else, despite Ringo’s attempts to distract them, god bless him. George sobbed loudly, grunting as soft chunks interrupted heavy squirts and directed them away from the small bowl, splattering all over the floor. He sobbed an ‘I’m sorry’ at some point, unsure if anyone heard him. It felt like an eternity until it was all over. The cramps had reduced to a dull ache and the diarrhea was now idly dripping from him. He looked back, seeing his mess laid out all over the floor and some even on the wall, the cup barely empty. Even now he was dripping on the carpet instead, and he sobbed again, covering his face. Ringo came over to him. 

“Hey, you feeling better now?” 

“I- I m-missed the bowl..” Ringo rubbed his shoulder.

“It’s alright. Hey, we’re almost landing. How about we go sit down and then we’ll get to the hotel and see how you’re feeling then, yeah?” George nodded, shame building up in his gut now that it’d been emptied of all the waste it’d been supporting all day. He pulled up his pants, cringing at the squishy feeling of his unwiped bum as he walked back to his seat, hiding his face and sobs into his hands. He could feel the eyes of the others burning into him. “You’re alright.” Ringo cooed, stroking his hair. “You’re gonna be alright.”


End file.
